Hidden Homicide
by Itachi. Oh Enka
Summary: How far are you willing to go, until you break somebody? Dip.
1. Prologue

**AN:** Un-beta'd.  
This idea came to me when I looked at a picture on dA of Damien and Pip - pretty much questioning Pip's innocence. So I thought; how long does it take for Pip to break? Then I read a few things on homicide, and realised a few stuff. So, yeah.. that's Pip's inspiration. Thank you Pippers. XD;

Read and Review, please..

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Hidden Homicide**

You never look into a person's thoughts, or into their life; because to you - they're just a person with the same type of life as you. You don't look into their family's history, because they're normal just like you. You never look at a person and think - if I broke them, would it hurt? Because you never really knew that they would be broken in the first place.

You never knew - because you never cared.

So when you look on T.V and see those homocidal killings and you think about the amount of blood and the way it was done - the way it was so easily planned out, even if the killer was caught. You never ask yourself - you never care - was the murder intentional? Did they want to be caught? Why did they do it? What happened to the family?

These questions consist of why and what. Sometimes who and how. But this is your chance. This is your answer now, this is your question - and the answer you choose had better be good.

How far are you willing to go, until you break somebody?


	2. A Day In The Life of Pip

**Un-beta'd.**

Read and Review, please..

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**Hidden Homicide**

**CHAPTER ONE  
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**My name is Pip. My Christian name is Philip, but due to the coming hate of my name from both myself and my peers - if you could call them that - I have decided Pip is a simple and carefree name, nothing to insult or degrade about such a name. But of course, there is always one person who can find a way.

My full name isn't just Philip, it's Philip Pirrup. An odd combination of names; you can see why I don't like them, right? My parents are sadly passed on, leaving me with my sister and her husband Joe. She, of course changed her name to his last one - and I kept mine as respect for my father. But, hardly knowing him I just decided to use it to remind myself of a family I once had.

And a reason to hate them just that smallest bit.

I concider myself a proper boy. Proper in the meaning of politeness, manners and the joy that is myself. I hide the negatives aspects of myself away from the people of the world - allowing them to believe there is everything of happiness running a riot inside of my body. But that is the complete opposite of what I feel when I sink into lonliness every night - or every moment of being surrounded by nothing, and nobody.

I dress as an English boy should, not as an American - because I do stride to become one. I am proud of my heritige and the way I was raised to believe being an English boy was a pride to my family. So I grew on my accent, and I still have it - even after sixteen years of living in Colorado, South Park.

I dress in a normal fabricated jacket; keeping me warm in the winter and guarding away the bruises and bumps on my skin. Under my jacket is a normal blouse - not a woman's - with a bow tie properly adjusted on the collar for presentation. I wear shorts - regardless of the continuously cold weather, I enjoy wearing them - with either long white, or purple - occasionally red - socks that rise past my knees. Then simply, a pair of black shoes that most would expect a female to wear. But they are very much masculine.

I live on my own, as my sister and her husband left quite some time ago when I was ten - by, leaving me with them as I stated previously, I mean they are my only family, even if they don't visit.

They were sick of the constant hospital bills they had to pay - well, my sister was, Joe was more than happy to help - leaving me behind to 'defend myself'. But I was never raised to fight back, nor was I raised to be a bad person and sin with other's blood on my hands. So I don't fight; and I don't defend myself with words nor violence. I let them beat me, it's the closest thing to defending myself as I can, I suppose - until I can run.

"'Ello Pip, old chap." I turn in my seat to see the mocking face of Eric Cartman. My eyes widen in the fear he wants to see. Eric's lips curl into an obnoxious smile and a small snarl escapes them as they part to show pearly white teeth - after all the junk food he eats, this suprises me quite a lot.

"Oh, hello Eric." I reply politely, though there is a shake in my voice that he notices. His friends aren't behind him so I wonder why he's acting like the tough person he isn't. I could castrate him if I wanted to - but of course that would send me into the layers of Hell where he will be - and an eternity of bullying isn't really my cup of tea.

A girl comes behind Eric with the same smile he has. I recognise her as Bebe Stevens, I assume she's Eric's current girlfriend - so I realise this is his reason to impress. "How are you doing, Frenchy?" He asks as if he cares.

I shrug softly. "Fine, Eric. How are you doing?" I ask. I realise what he's going to do, act sickeningly sweet and then beat me into Hell himself. His smile falls from his face. I'm not quite sure why.

After a long fight with the other people he used to be with - Stanley, Kyle and Kenneth - he now wanders alone with anyone who has the courage to be with him. Because they're all scared of him; or just the way he can act. He's never done anything particually bad to anyone, except for that Scott boy.. But now, it's me who takes his blows.

"Why are you so happy all the time!?" He snaps, pulling me up by my jacket. I resist the urge to laugh at him. Instead I shake - because I feel it's the only thing I can do; and wish for symapthy. "You don't deserve happiness you fucking orphan!" He screams, throwing me onto the floor.

Sticks and stones, Eric. Sticks and stones.

"Every person has the right to be happy, Eric." I speak up in a small whisper. Bebe laughs from in front of me as I sit up. I can feel everybodies eyes on me - some shocked at my words and some laughing because they know what my behaviour brings.

Eric laughs bitterly, "Everyone but you, Pip." He snarls. I shiver slightly at the way he spits my nickname. Strolling to my side he kicks me in the side and I have to pretend that it doesn't hurt. I close my eyes and imagine myself somewhere else - but his kicking only makes it worse, and all I can see is stars; before my hip goes numb.

"E-Eric, please.." I whisper, struggling to stand as he walks away. He laughs and walks back, kicking me in the stomach as I fall onto my hands and knees, coughing. No words escape my parted lips and I scream inwardly. My throat goes dry as he picks me up by it. I cough in his face out of pure accident, but he takes it as something else and hurls me into a wall.

Laughter echoes around me, never ending the humilation I stand through. But this time it's worse because I stood up for myself. I listened and defended my right of happiness. I snarl in pain and sit on my backside, back against the wall. Nobody helps.

"You're not worth life, Pip. You're not worthy of happiness." He mutters, taking a fork from the nearest person to him and kneeling in front of me. He sighs softly, as if in pity. "Don't you see it, Pip? Nobody loves you - or even cares.. Everybody left you, so we're only doing you a favour." He stabs the fork into my shoulder, not enough to pierce fully into my skin - but just barely it goes through. He tugs it out and repeats the process down my arm, blood spilling over as I scream and write. But then he punches me to quieten me down.

"Why don't you see it!?" He yells, punching me again in the stomach. But I can't see it, I can't see anything. Because my whole world turns back.

But Eric just continues hoping to kill me.

Sometimes.. I hope too.

x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x

"How are you doing, son?" The nurse speaks up, looking down on me with a sympathetic look. I shake slightly at her voice and force myself to shuffle back. She understands my hesitation and backs away from the bed, holding a file in her hand. "I apologize, it must be very painful to take in such light hair?" She laughs slightly and pets her pink hair. I nod - but that isn't it.

"I- I'm ever so sorry.." I pipe up. She turns to me, enough to welcome the fetus on her head to dance as she does so. I smile weakly as she smiles and shakes her head. It's the only thing I can do when I've made people work - is apologize. "I'm not that worth caring for, Miss." I say.

She laughs softly and walks forward, but I flinch as she reaches toward my face. She drops her hand and sighs. "Philip, you're going to have to relax. I'm not going to hurt you - just examine this bruise, alright?" She asks in her American accent.

I nod hesitantly and close my eyes so I don't know when her hand will come. I open my eyes when her fingers run over the bruise and bump on my face. She tuts slowly and takes her hand away, jotting something down on a piece of paper clipped onto the clipboard.

"What are you writing?" I ask.

She smiles and places the clipboard onto the table behind her, reaching for a small white piece of cotton and a small bottle of alcohol or some sort of antiseptic. She places the burning liquid onto my face and watches as I hiss - she doesn't help, just like nobody else did. "I was just writing down your injuries, Philip.."

I nod slightly. It's quite funny, because I've been here so many times that she learns my name and I learn hers. Ms. Gollum lets the cotton fall onto my lap as she unbuttons my jacket, removes my bow tie and rides of my blouse - carefully unbuttoning each button. She picks back up the cotton and places it on each cut running down my arm. I close my eyes because I know she'll see them; I know she'll ask.

"Philip," She speaks up, stopping the cotton from travelling over the dry blood and falling. I open my eyes slowly and look onto her disapointed face. She shakes her head in a small sigh. "Please, don't say these are your work?" She says, running her finger over an old cut. I gulp and shake my head.

"The usual, Miss.." I lie, "Just another day in the life of Pip."

She laughs, but I don't find it any humourous. She then lets her laughter die down before she sighs again - and this time I resist the urge to scold her, because those annoying little air brushes on my face are frustrating. "When are you ever going to defend yourself?" She asks.

I frown, "When people begin to care."

x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x

After being treated in the nurse's office I continue on with my day, my arms and my hips bandaged up and carefully treated. Several plasters and bandages are wrapped around my neck and over my face. Several people look with pitying eyes - I know they would help if I were someone different; I know those looks.

I know they pity my lonliness. But I don't care, after third grade I stopped caring about lonliness. Because when I was eight, I had the first friend - even if for the shortests of times, I had one. His name was Damien, and he was quite the character.

Being the son of Satan, he wasn't the nicest of people. But he sat with me, he stuck up for me and then be betray me. But it was his plan; he informed me - and I didn't object to it, because at the time I was so used to betrayal.. But, Damien was different.

Damien didn't care about the population - even if he made it seem like he did. He came back, not as soon as he left, but a couple of years before. He came back and he apologized and well.. things led to other things and I believe my innocence faded after I was - I would say, joined - with the Devil's son himself.

"How are you feeling?" I glance up from my thoughts to come face to face with my old teacher, from third grade - Mr. Garrison. He smiles down at me, and I smile back; because I feel safe in the confides of my teacher.

"I feel better, thank you, sir.. How have you been, Mr. Garrison?" I ask in a polite way, even though it hurts my jaw when I speak. Politeness is key - as my sister would say. Mr. Garrison shrugs and takes me to the side by the lockers. I stumble slightly but catch myself.

"Listen, Pip.. I may not be the most expectant person you can meet - really, I know that.." Mr. Garrison sighs as he looks at me. I'm the same height as him, but he stills look down on me - it's frustrating the way he does it. "But, you need to talk to someone, Philip."

He uses my full name, and somewhere inside it hurts, because I don't like my name - I don't like anything about myself. Instead I smile and tilt my head to him. "Thank you for your worry, but I'll be fine.. really.." I lie.

He sighs, because like everyone else he knows I won't be fine. He knows my once innocence has changed into something else. Deadly, I would suppose.. but it's okay. Because somewhere along the way I'll stand up for myself.

Somehow, and somewhere. I will. Alone, I doubt it - but I've done that so far. I've struggled through life alone and I've lived it, regardless of the hate plummered onto me. Because I'm waiting for that help; for Him to fly to me and give me his hand. **  
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	3. Damien's Proposition

**Un-beta'd.  


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Hidden Homicide**

**CHAPTER TWO**

The way to a good lie is to have two people involved; then slowly the lie will evaporate into a rumour or a problem for everybody. These two people needed are the one who tells the lie, and the one who's stupid enough to believe it. In this case, Eric Cartman and the whole school - preferably though, his gullable girlfriend Bebe Stevens.

Rumours don't trouble me because I'm more or less used to them. But this one troubles everybody; and involes the one person everybody knows weakens me - and well, threatens everybody else. This person is the one person nobody 'fucks' with, because they're in fear of themselves and their friends - but more importantly their popularity level decreases, because they have to mess with me to mess with him.

Who is he?

His name is Damien.

As I said earlier, Damien is - or was - my first true friend. The one person who I could rely on, and then expect to break my childish innocence with his devilish ways. Of course; quite literally at that. When Damien came back a few years after Eric's birthday party there was nothing to say but a mere apology.

But what followed on after that was quite the amazing complexion to look back on. To realise that for once in my 'childhood' I had something I looked forward to, even if it was wrong at such a young age - I was needed, and trusted and for that moment of time I was loved. I was able to love someone back and feel good about myself.

But it didn't last; until now.

"Okay, class. Settle down. Settle down." I look up from my seat at the back and play with the corner pages of my book, flicking them through my fingers and watching them curl back into their straight posture. I sigh and watch as Mr. Garrison smoothes down his shirt and turns to the door where the new student walks in.

He's bolder than before, he's taller and more muscely - but still skinny and pale. But a pale that suits him beautifully. His eyes are darker than before, seeming almost a very dark black - or raven blue, with the usually hints of red spiking inside to show his emotions. His hair is longer, and his fringe falls over his face easily; not bothering him at all. His attire is the same, black clothes and large black boots with several gothic accessories. I'm quite sure the Gothic kids have taken a liking to him already - due to his real and unordinary fangs he shows when he smirks or smiles.

"I'd like us all to welcome back, Damien." Mr. Garrison pipes up, smiling at the Gothic boy and nodding toward the empty desk in front of me, and beside Cartman. I shiver at Cartman's glares aimed at me, and looks down to the book I'm vandalizing.

I mentally note down to go to the church after school for some guidance. I have laid with the Devil's son, and I have thought thoughts of un-natural minds. I groan softly to myself.

"Now class, today we're going to be learning about Great Expectations, a Charles Dickens novel." I pipe up and smile, shifting in my seat comfortably and getting ready to pay attention. Mr. Garrison steps forward, hand on his chin and Mr. Hatt - supposidly - tucked away in his desk drawer. "Now, can anyone tell me the main character of the story?"

No hands go up - because I pressume they all forgot. I sigh, I don't want to put my hand up, because it would draw attention to myself. If I don't, Mr. Garrison will either choose me - and I'll be seen as the teacher's pet - or will be disapointed, and give me a detention for not paying attention or taking part.

I raise my hand hesitantly and he beams at me. "Pip." He instructs. I gulp and hold onto the book in front of me.

"Ph-Philip Pirrip, sir.." I murmur, shy and quiet so the other's don't hear my accent. But they do, and they turn to glare at me - well, only several do, like Eric and Bebe and Clyde and Token - but the rest turn and give me a silent smile or nod. Because they're all scared.

Damien only glances at me with his fangs partly showing in a smirk or a smile - I don't know which, it's hard to tell - but I flush at his attention and immidiately glance down at the book. Mr. Garrison beams and claps his hands, making me jump and look up again.

"Well done, Pip! Now," Mr. Garrison turns to the board, writing down the main characters names and the beginning of the plot, mentioning the convict and the fire shots. Joe, and Joe's wife - Pip's sister - and his diseased family.

I pay attention, but just barely make it look like I'm not.

Eric scoffs and sits back in his chair, everybody readies themselves for a cocky remark to escape the fat boy. He snarls under his breath and folds his arms over his large belly. I smile at my own thoughts and duck my head to hide my silent humour.

"This is all crap," He pipes up, huffing. Mr. Garrison turns from the board and glares at Eric. "I don't get why we have to learn this British shit, it's not like any of us care about British culture, or even the understated idiots that live there.. They're all hippies, faggots and homeless people. Who cares?" Eric asks.

I frown to myself, gripping onto my shorts as I previously lay them on my legs. 'Leave it, Pip.. Don't say anything,' I think to myself. But I stand up - pushing away my chair and attracting the eyes of the class. I gulp.

"E-English culture is anything b-but that, Eric! You only dislike them because you don't know them a-and because they're weaker - as you want to tell yourself - than you! Y-You're just stubbornly immature and you d-don't respect anybody's opinion! W-Why don't you just.." I pull at my hair, similar to the way Tweek does. "Gosh! Why don't you - just shut up, Eric!?"

Every person in the class is staring, some shocked and some laughing. I'm not sure what at - the humilation of Eric, or the bravery of myself. I glance over to Damien who smiles in his seat, not particularly looking at anything. Mr. Garrison's smiling too and I look at him with wide, fearful eyes.

I've pulled myself into a death trap, that I need to escape from.

"I-.. I'm sorry," I mutter, sitting down and holding my hair, "How rude of me.. Oh gosh.." I curse myself under my breath, shaking to myself in the fear and knowledge of what I've done. I grab my bag and escape out of the classroom.

x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x

"Forgive me Father, for I have sinned." I whisper, bowing my head and shuffling my feet from side to side in the small locked confessional. I listen to the silence for a moment and wonder if there is anybody on the other side. Frightened, I squeak when a voice speaks up.

"Tell me, my child of these sins," A gentle voice commands. I nod to myself and close my eyes taking a deep breath. Looking up, I stroke my fingers through the red silk.

"A long time ago, Father, I slept with a man as only natural for a woman and a man. I enjoyed this playful act of sin, and more so Father - this man was that of the Devil's son.." I gulp and let out another shaky sigh, "B-But, I.. recently have had thoughts not common or natural. Thoughts of spilling blood father.. Of homicidal sins."

There is a pause and a shuffle. "Our lord is always willing to forgive you, my child." I listen to the explination and nod solemnly, "This sin of homosexuality is only one if you believe it is yourself - God has made you, you.. You are not to feel ashamed of this child. But.. with the Devil's son you must repent; show no sign of mercy in his evil deeds and run free of them. He is but a dangerous boy, child - steer clear and God shall forgive.."

"Thank you, Father," I whisper, thankful for the loud echo it brings.

"These thoughts, child - how often have you had such sins into your mind?" He asks, his voice is soft but there is a small sign of disapointment.

I shake to myself, ashamed. "For.. a few days, Father." I reply, my fingers clutching onto the curtain and then letting go, letting the silk fall through my fingers before my hands fall onto my lap and hold my long socks.

The priest sighs, and I expect he is laughing inwardly. "Then it is common child. Issues tend to bring some thoughts into your head and welcome you into the darkness of curiosity. You know which path to take, my boy.."

I nod to myself and stand, "Thank you Father for your words.."

He whispers a small Latin prayer, which I answer with Amen, before walking from the confessional and out of the church lighting a candle as I leave in honour of respect for the church, my faith and my family. As I leave, I try to ignore the dark car following me.

x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x

I sink into my bed and hold the pillow over myself to supress the loud screams. Throwing the pillow aside I sit up with a loud groan and run my fingers through my messed up hair, before placing my hat back on my head securely.

"How foolish of me," I whisper. I can't believe I yelled at Cartman - over a small book that shouldn't of really had much of that anger over me; though it is my heritage, so I suppose I should pray that he understands - and pray these thoughts leave my head.

"Pip,"

I dart up from my bed and glance into red eyes of the intruder of my home. Damien stares at me with calm eyes, my own are wide I know, and my body is shaking. I'm not scared; I'm nervous. I'm not confused, I'm happy.

It's Damien - but then there is every reason to be quite nervous around said Anti-Christ.

"Oh.. H-Hello there, Damien.." I mutter, relaxing but letting my hands fall to my bed sheets and clutch them quite desperately in an attempt to stop my nervous shivers everytime his eyes cross over mine. I gulp past the lump in my throat as he chuckles.

"Polite, still?" He questions. I nod curtly. "I see what you did in school today, Pip. You stood up for yourself for once.." He mutters, leaning against the wall and propping his boot up against it. I gulp - what if he ruins my walls with mud?

But it's Damien - as evil as he may seem - he is not a dirty person. Very clean and organised. I assure you. "W-Well, it's quite difficult to stand up to Eric Cartman under pressure, D-Damien.." I stutter, cursing myself for the childish antics of a crush-ridden school girl.

Damien just chuckles and I shiver.

"Pip, I have a proposition for you.."


	4. It Will All Change

Unbeta'd. - My favourite chapter so far XD;  
Review?

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Hidden Homicide

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CHAPTER THREE

_Pip I have a proposition for you._ These words could make anybody shiver; especially since they were spoken from the beautiful pale mouth of the Devil's son. I brush my hair away from my eyes and glance up at Damien with the most innocent expression I can alter; but he sees through everthing. Through people's souls and hearts. If they're broken Damien will know; Damien always knows.

Sometimes there is a wish inside of me - that I'm sure Damien also sees - that he wouldn't be able to see the impurity inside of me. There are so many sins in me that I wish no one can see. But they all see them, that's why they all hate me - well, I assume this is why.

"What is your idea, Damien?" I ask.

Damien smiles at me. Not an evil smile, or a smile that shows pity or humour, or something that bares anger inside of me. It's a genuine smile that suprises me almost. Damien never smiles so softly; and in a way - it's frightening.

"My idea, Pippers," He starts, the old nickname he gives me brings a flush of blood to my cheeks, steaming them slightly as I glance to the floor in happy shame. He laughs slightly and ignores the avoidance of looking at him. "Is that you learn to stick up for yourself.. I can teach you this, Pip - but on one condition.." His voice trails off hesistantly.

I gulp and look up, if Damien trails off it's never a good sign. "..What?" I ask, my voice dipping in a deeper British accent then what I had the last time he came to see me. I flush a deeper and hotter red at the memories of Damien's previous visit.

He's smiling, which only makes me look away again. Avoiding his eye contact.

"You come to Hell with me." He finishes finally. My head snaps up and my eyes widen. I shake my head desperately, beginning to place my hands over my legs and clutch onto the material of my shorts. _Hell_? The place where tortured souls and slowing agonising screams fall through the firey depths? _HELL_?

I gulp again and resist the urge to sob. "I- I can't possibly go to Hell, Damien.." I mutter, "If I did that would deny my chances of getting into Heaven." I whisper, my voice getting quieter toward the end of each word. Damien sighs softly.

"Somehow I realised your reaction wouldn't of been the one I wanted." He sighs again, and places his hands over mine, prying them from my shorts and bringing them to his lips - kissing my palms and fingers with delicate feelings I assumed he didn't like to show openly. "But it's okay, Pippers," He whispers, letting my hands fall onto my legs with a gentle slap as he cups my cheeks, "I'll protect you." He ushers softly.

The blush on my cheeks was beginning to fade; but after such soft words ushered from him, my blush grows back and I sigh softly, but don't get the chance to exhale it; as his lips press to mine. My eyes widen for a few seconds then he parts his lips and closes his eyes - I follow his steps and close my eyes, too, opening my mouth a little as his tongue prods at my bottom lip.

When I allow his tongue entry, I hesitate as I feel the slipperly muscle brush against my own in attempt to move it. I allow it to wrap around mine and I allow myself to weaken in his grasp as he drops his hands from my cheeks to my hips, confident.

We pull away, and I pant. He doesn't, because I assume he's used to being out of breath. I smile at him, a weak smile as I fall to his shoulder and close my eyes. "Oh Damien," I sigh, "I've missed you ever so much.."

Damien nods against my head and I sigh softly as he brushes his fingers under my shirt. "I know, Pip," He whispers; but not an answer I want - I want him to have missed me too, but I know he's not a very open person even if he seems straight-forward. "I know," He finishes in another whisper.

I sigh and fall against his chest, finally allowing him to wrap his arms around my waist as I hold onto his shirt.

"Why are you back?" I ask softly. I assume by the way I say it Damien will think that I dislike his attention - which is completely wrong, because I adore his attention and the fact that he always comes to me. Protects _me_; the one person everybody hates.

Damien sighs against my hair, brushing the strands across my face and shifting my hat on my head as he leans against it. "I saw you, Pip. Nobody deserves to be alone - especially not you.." Damien replies softly, stroking his hand under my blouse. I sigh against his chest. "But - I don't know how long I can stay.. hopefully for until your time is done," Damien mutters. I shiver slightly. "Thankfully I got into an argument with my father, so.. he can't be sending me back any time soon.." He says finally, finishing his explination.

"So you're staying with me..?" I ask.

Damien nods against me and pulls away finally, "Let me see you, Pippers," He demands softly. I look up at him, finally ashamed of the bandages, cream, plasters and various other health help over my body. More on my face that makes me ashamed.

His fingers brush over the bandage around my neck at first, and then glances to the plaster over my cheek and one over the lid of my eye - frustrating me whenever I blink. He pulls my arm from around him and examines that too, the various cuts I had artistically worked with are bandaged up. But then Damien begins to unbutton my blouse, removing my bow tie and jacket and throwing them aside forcefully as he glares at the bandages on my shoulder down to my elbow on each arm.

Cartman's injuries don't hurt me at all anymore, but the look on Damien's face does. He glares at the bandages and plasters with a soft, hurt look in his eyes - clouded, too, with anger. I stare at him with concerned eyes and he glances back with the same look - but heavier.

"Damie-" He cuts me off with a shake of his head. I nod curtly and curl into him, frightened to know what he's thinking. But not frightened of_ him_. Damien sighs louder; and I'm not sure how many times he's sighed - but it's been quite a lot.

"Who did this?" He asks suddenly. I shiver, because he's voice is calm, but low. That's never a good sign. I brush the anger away and shiver against him again just thinking about it.

"That doesn't matter, Damien.." I reply softly, trying to protect Eric - for what reason I'm not sure. Damien lets out a small snarl, and I've realised I've angered him quite a bit. Damien shakes his head against me again.

Another sigh, followed by a growl. "Pippers," He whispers softly, "Who did it?" He asks again. I clutch onto his shirt and tug on it, desperately praying he'll forget if I change the subject.

"When did you get here?" I ask suddenly. He jolts slightly, out of shock.

"Pip," He growls. Obviously I was mistaken, he feels the need to hold the subject until I tell him; but he knows who it is. He just wants to know if I'm willing to protect myself, or willing to protect the one that hurt me. But he always hurts me, so what's the problem?

"E-Eric," I sigh in a stutter. Damien nods and parts away from me brushing himself down as if I dirtied him. He glances down at me and offers his hand.

"Would you like to come with me?" He asks.

I look up in awe and confusion. "Come where, Damien?" I ask softly. He smiles to me, a flash of misbehaviour running through his eyes and then hiding. I resist the urge to shiver at the beautiful look.

"To teach this boy a lesson."

I nod.

How could it hurt?

x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x

It turns out what Damien insisted on doing to Cartman did hurt the large boy. Hurt him into a hospital bed - as Joe would say. Unfortunately, Damien insisted that I wasn't present at the time and had sent me away.

I sigh as I sit on Damien's livingroom settee. Damien sits beside me with his hand over mine. But so many images run through my head. Damien's cool fingers brush through mine, entwining together as he sighs.

"I'm sorry," He says softly, resting his head against mine. I nod slowly, not completely bothered by the harm he inflicted on Eric, but the fact that this will earn me a greater disliking before - but I am thankful for Tweek and Craig being friends in my life; and Kenny and Butters - they are all quite helpful.

The five people I will always protect in some way or other.

"That's alright, Damien.." I reply simply, giving his fingers a small squeeze, "I assume it's best if we were to go back to school though Damien.." I mutter quietly. Damien smiles.

"But it's the school day over.."

I blush to myself, "I have to be at an art exam - and I-.. I am the model, Damien.." I stutter. Damien's eyes widen slightly and a hint of a possessive flash runs across crimson eyes before he glares down at me and then relaxes.

"Alright," He replies, picking me up by my hand and walking me out of the house and toward his car. We both get in - well, he opens my door for me and I get in and then he walks back to his own door and sits himself inside of the car. "I'll stay." He explains.

I nod, "Okay, but please don't do anything drastic, Damien.." I mutter in a gentle, humoured response. Damien scoffs and shakes his head, black hair falling into his pale face and I smile - I love when he does that; for a reason I don't know.

The drive is quiet, and when we finally reach the destination, Damien stops the car quite abrupt and I'm thankful for the tight grasp of my seat belt. I glance over to Damien's face and the way he squeezes and releases the steering wheel.

"Damien?" I pipe up softly, un-fastening my belt I lean over to him and brush my fingers against his arm, causing him to jump slightly and glance at me.

"Sorry.." He replies softly, "Let's go shall we?"

I nod and step out of the car at the same time as Damien, both of our doors create an echoed slam. I smile to him from over the roof and skip around to meet him. Yes, skip. Damien takes my hand in his because I think he notices my shivering.

I glance at the entrance around the back of the school where Craig and Tweek are, I smile at them and walk forward, hand in Damien's. "Hello, Tweek, Craig.." Craig glances up from his spot on the floor and smiles simply, nudging Tweek and squeezing his hip - Tweek squeaks and glances up also.

"_Ngn_! O-Oh Hey, Pip!" He stutters, twitching a little at the sight of Damien, he nods softly to Damien and Damien nods back, and then nods to Craig who returns the greeting gesture. Damien pulls me forward into the school and I quickly say goodbye to my friends before falling back into step with Damien.

"Why are you in such a rush, Damien?" I ask.

He grunts in response. I sigh and glance at the floor to my Mary Janes and then to Damien's simple black trainers with a small red embroided: 666. I smile at his shoe and glance up the hallway, pausing and stopping Damien.

"What?" He asks, a hint of worry in his voice.

I smile at him, wider this time. It feels quite nice to smile. "We're here, Damien.." I tell him. He nods and leans down, brushing his lips to mine. I press mine back to his as he presses his to mine in a soft way. We pull away and he rests his forehead to mine.

"I'll be at the back, Pipper.." He smiles.

I nod simply and pull him inside.

x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x

The exam doesn't take as long as it did a couple of days ago. They're all quite younger than myself and Damien so I thank God they don't know who I am. But one of them is Kyle Broflovski's brother who glares at me - I assume it's because of my British heritage, that seems to be the main reason nowadays.

Damien notices this and stares at me with protective eyes, making me smile slightly and flush. Ike Broflovski is his name apparently - as I find out at the end of the session. Oh dear, session sounds like a .. oh nevermind.

When the lesson finishes Damien stands up, brushes himself down - in habit - and steps forward, extending his hand out to me and helping me up.

"You really should take up my offer, Philip," He whispers in my ear, brushing his hand against my naked side. I shiver slightly and clutch the large sheet to myself and glare at him with a sigh.

"Escort me?" I ask with a smile.

Damien nods and takes my hand, walking me into the classroom opposite and locking the door as I change. I feel quite self-concious around him; but he's seen me like this before so I forget that he's there and I dress myself, starting with my boxers and then my shorts and slowly buttoning my shirt - but leaving my bow tie and jacket. I sit my hat on my head and sigh as I run my fingers through the ends of my hair.

"I should cut my hair," I tell him.

He shakes his head, "I like it." He replies simply with a shrug. I step forward and lean against him as I pull up my long knee length red socks and slip on my Mary Janes. Damien watches me and smiles.

"You wear such odd things in such a cold environment.." He says, a teasing shimmer in his eyes. I nod slightly and smile up at him.

"I'm just used to it by now."

Just like everything else.

The beatings.

The hatred; but that's all going to change... That's _all_ going to change.


	5. It Always Helps To Take Action

Yes, it's supposed to be this short. But I'm sorry about that XDD  
Un-beta'd~

* * *

**Hidden Homicide**

**CHAPTER FOUR**

I pick up the phone on my desk and stare into the mirror back at my own reflection. I smile to myself and then turn away, avoiding the fact I'm there - because I'm ashamed of myself, I always have been I suppose.

My fingers press onto several buttons and I bring the phone up to my ear, listening to the heavy beeping noise, signifying that the number I'm calling is waiting, before finally I hear his voice and let out a sigh of relief.

"'Ello?" He sounds tired, but I suppose I am calling him at ten at night. I'm not sure what job he has now, or what he does in his spare time - or even if he's still with my sister, but I know this number because he promised me he would never get rid of it. Trust him to remember me.

"Hello, Joe," I say shyly, after long years of not speaking I have finally plucked up the courage to talk to the one man I suppose can help me; if not him then I should really go over to see Jesus. But, Jesus is a busy man and will be annoyed by my presense.

Everybody else is.

"_Pip_, my boy, is that you?" Joe speaks up, proud of himself. I can almost hear the smile pressed over his lips as he strides with his words, "My golly, Pip! It's been so long, how many years now? Four, three?! _Oh Pip_, how are you?!" He mumbles his words, getting louder and then mumbling again to himself more than to me.

I smile to myself and spin around in my chair, facing away from the mirror and looking at my bed. "I-" I stop. How have I been? "_I need your help_." I state, ignoring his question because I know Joe will take me seriously when I avoid questions. It's rude - and I am anything but.

"With what, Pip?" He asks, his voice low and serious. I hear crumples and shifts of movement and I guess he's either been sitting or lying down. But now he's fully awake and I'm glad.

I sigh softly, and run my fingers through the ends of my hair, twirling them slightly. "I don't know what to do, Joe," I tell him in a soft, helpless voice. "I'm in such a mess, Joe.. I - I'm not quite sure what to do.." I whisper.

Joe coughs, "Ol' chap, you're going to have to explain further. I can't help you if you ain't telling me no reason, can I?" His accent is stronger than ever and it brings a pain to my heart. I miss Joe ever so much; and it's England I miss even more.

"I've sinned," I tell him. His breath hitches slightly before he lets out a loud sigh; and chokes on it. My eyes widen in worry. "Joe, what's wrong? Are you ill? Is Mrs. Joe treating you incorrectly? Oh she hasn't hurt you has she Joe?!" I worry.

Joe laughs, his voice crackling slightly: "No, Pip, ol' chap. It's quite alright - I've just got a little sore throat is all. Now, now, your sin - tell me about it, Pip. It always helps to take action!"

_It always helps to take action_. Really?

"_Oh Joe_, you've just helped me! Thank you! I - I hope you get well soon, Joe. I'll pray for you," I tell him proudly, hanging up the phone as I listen to him say _goodbye_, confused. I sit back in my chair and glance up at the ceiling.

It always helps to take action.

_Joe, I hope you're right.._


	6. new account check profile for link

**This story is being deleted and moved onto my new fanfiction page.  
**


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